“At the library, I thumb the encyclopedias from your childhood and mark the pages where we might once have met: steeple, radio, platypus.” A tension hovers over a tenderness, a yearning in “Interludes: Distance” by Rebecca Morgan Frank: kenyonreview.org/piece/interlud…

“&, she says, “lovely,” i am “beautiful,” i am in her mouth-touch, i am resuscitated light” We will be thinking about these utterly beautiful lines in “Waterful Jasmine” by Jasmine Reid for a long time to come. Find it here: kenyonreview.org/piece/waterful…

“In which story does Collins praise God’s silence? It was like reading a lost gospel when I finally watched Losing Ground. As Sara, Seret Scott is more myself than I am.” —“From Homage to Kathleen Collins” by Derrick Austin (Derrick Austin) kenyonreview.org/piece/homage-t…

If you missed my poem in the latest Kenyon Review 😎

My favorite fabulist — Anthony Tognazzini — has a powerful new story in the latest issue of Kenyon Review — it’s a dark report from a settlement that explores the slippery terrains of nationalism, militarism, identity, language, and power. Read it here: kenyonreview.org/piece/break-th…

“When your mother locked you out of the house, you’d ring the doorbell, shout through the mailbox: Let me in! Let me in!” Listen to & read “Shibboleth: A Mapping / Jishin-no-ben” by Lee Ann Roripaugh—a staggering poem: kenyonreview.org/piece/shibbole…

“I talk with the dead more often | now | moon full | the dead are | all around | talking | leaves / swept / from | the ground | peonies flattened | already readying for the next season” Read “Cavalcade” by James McCorkle under tonight's full moon: kenyonreview.org/piece/cavalcad…

“The last real cowboy is a Palestinian boy in a black-and-white photo on the wall he’s five years old. The boy is my father. He drives a green big rig truck across the United States.” —From “The Last Real Cowboy” by Jess Abughattas kenyonreview.org/piece/the-last…

“What is the wind if not divine desire callusing the smooth palm of your field. Curse even the smallest chaos, forget it exists only because you conjured it.” —From “Pastoral in the Mode of Bob Ross” by Ariana Benson kenyonreview.org/piece/pastoral…

"Darwish turns in his grave, the house / where he is not denied a country," So begins the poem by Saddiq Dzukogi, author of YOUR CRIB, MY QIBLA, featured in Kenyon Review. Read and listen to it here: bit.ly/3X2WqJh

“where some students in spring / can still afford to lounge / on the lawn, propping up books, / gazing out at the structures / and futures they’re learning/ to question” Read this staggering & succinct poem—“before the union rally” by Evie Shockley here: kenyonreview.org/piece/before-t…

“The indolent light expanded over the heap of branches. What happens to a story after everyone cuts themselves out.” “I was wrestling with the lilac” by Mary Szybist is a must-read poem: kenyonreview.org/piece/i-was-wr…

“Hope sees only / the rain-wet future / because I wear my mother’s fingers, my father’s thumbs. / I sharpen a fallen branch into a stake and dream / of spiked pits.” —From “Next Year’s Records Break Again” by Leah Tieger kenyonreview.org/piece/next-yea…

“When I learned the names of flowers I’d seen all my life I felt complete. I walked the dirt road with a child and told her chicory, and later goldenrod and aster.” —From “Comma, Question Mark” by Susan Barba kenyonreview.org/piece/comma-qu…

“we planted a tree because / trees make us happy but we weren’t altogether / good who can be in an evil time” —From “The Planting” by Charles Douthat kenyonreview.org/piece/the-plan…

On yesterday's 19th anniversary of #HurricaneKatrina, I'm proud to re-share my essay, "Katrina Five Ways," originally published in the Summer 2006 issue of Kenyon Review. Read it here: fertel.com/blog/katrina-f…

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